


Each Bullet Screams Your Name

by Abyssinia



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-12
Updated: 2007-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:34:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssinia/pseuds/Abyssinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>John Sheppard's back pocket holds a piece of paper, fraying around the edges and so soft from folding it's starting to get holes at the creases. When he unfolds it, a list of names greets him, written in black pen with his small, cramped, military-neat handwriting.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Each Bullet Screams Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by Hiyacynth

_It had contained names like "Mitch," "Dex," "Holland," and "Small boy outside Kabul - October 23, 2002."_

After John's futile shots missed the Genii commander leaping through the 'gate. After he took down the remnants of Kolya's strike force. After Teyla and Ford dragged him back to the control room where Zelenka was newly returned and frantically trying to save the city. After Beckett dressed the wounds he didn't remember acquiring. After electricity surged through the city's hallways and the storm raged impotently overhead and faded into nothingness.

Only then did Elizabeth guide him into the conference room where McKay's body lay. John heard himself growl when he saw the blood on the scientist's right arm and more flaking off the left palm that must have covered it. McKay's eyes stared blindly at the ceiling, his mouth lay open and a line of blood trailed from the corner of his lips. The wound in his chest was a chasm of red, and John knew McKay had spent long minutes choking on collapsing lungs before he succumbed.

"He stepped in front of the gun for me," Elizabeth marveled, the whisper echoing in John's ears.

Back in his quarters, where Beckett had ordered him to rest on threat of enforced time in the infirmary, John paced like a caged cat. He dug a black pen from the drawer of his desk and added a name to the list, pressing so hard he tore the paper.

_When he left Earth a similar list was abandoned with the rest of a life that had careened off track._

John was tight-lipped at the briefing after Dagan, every muscle tense. Rodney smiled each time he looked at the ZPM in front of him, but a shadow crossed his eyes and he looked away each time he remembered the price that came with it. Ford's voice was steady but no easy smiles lit his face, and when they left John heard Elizabeth softly crying behind them. His fists were clenched tight over palms that itched from imaginary poisonous pinpricks.

John flew Teyla to the mainland, where Halling took the burden off his arms and Charin led the women in preparing the body. Back in Atlantis he ran marine after marine in fighting drills until his legs shook and his hands refused to grasp. The fighting sticks in the corner bore silent witness.

The funeral was subdued, and as Teyla's pyre flamed, producing an acrid smell that brought John back to burning Afghani villages, he walked into the forest and cursed Kolya's name to the sky. Teyla was wise and beautiful, strong and kind, but she had no chance to solve the puzzle when Kolya chose her first. When John had stepped over her still-warm body it was pure luck he remembered the Mensa problem. Pure luck he didn't just lay his hands down anyway.

His right hand found a pen in his pocket as his left hand dug out the paper, and Teyla's name bled onto the page in writing that shook.

_The name at the top is "Colonel Marshall Sumner."_

The Genii sent the nukes but kept Elizabeth. John was too busy trying to save the city to worry, even with the voice in his head telling him it meant she'd be the only one to survive in the end. Kolya called when they had the shield up and the city was bathed with the red light of the bombardment. John reversed Kolya's threat, promising destruction of the Genii planet with their new spaceship if he didn't return Dr. Weir. Didn't Kolya realize the middle of a Wraith siege was a bad time to hold someone hostage?

Kolya responded by sending a finger through the 'gate. That got John's attention. Unfortunately it made no difference. Resources and people were stretched too thin, and he knew Elizabeth would kill him if he lost Atlantis in favor of saving her. She had always refused to deal with terrorists. He hadn't banked on Kolya sending through the body before he managed to rescue her.

Atlantis's morgue was cold and as silent as John imagined the grave must be. The blood, the broken bones were hidden under a sheet, and all John could do was sit and stroke Elizabeth's hair. "We saved the city, Elizabeth. Your plan worked," he whispered, hand running over brown curls.

Hours later Beckett came and sent him away. John punched a wall on the way out, gasping at the crack of his knuckles, but a glare kept the Scottish doctor away. Back in his quarters he had to write Elizabeth's name with his left hand, and the letters wiggled over the faded blue lines.

_When he unfolds it, a list of names greets him, written in black pen with his small, cramped, military-neat handwriting._

John could still picture Kolya's sneer as the camera panned to Lieutenant Ford, bound in enough chains to hold back a horde of hungry Wraith and caged for good measure.

"I believe he is one of yours, Colonel Sheppard," Kolya had snarled over the feed. Ford's Wraith-like eye was still bright, but the rest of him seemed weak, doused in sweat. Beckett said he was probably going through withdrawal -- said it would kill him.

John shoved past Elizabeth to turn on the radio, too angry to pretend Atlantis didn't exist. "Where did you find him?"

"This soldier," Kolya spat the word, "tried to raid a heavily fortified Genii outpost. Normally trespassing is instantly punishable by death. But I thought perhaps we might be able to find something more beneficial for all parties."

"What do you want, Kolya?" John asked.

"Five of your ships. And Dr. Beckett with his marvelous gene therapy to administer to my people. In exchange, we free your lieutenant."

"I'm not going there," Beckett stuttered as soon as the microphone was muted.

"Don't worry, Carson. We don't negotiate with terrorists," Dr. Weir told him.

In the end, Ford saved them the trouble. Withdrawal was swift and nasty, and when they watched his body finally go slack after pushing against the chains, they knew the worst. Sheppard wrote a letter to Ford's cousin, her quiet accusations ringing in his head. After the envelope was sealed and placed in the mail sacks for the _Daedalus_'s next run, John used the same pen to write Ford's name.

_John Sheppard's back pocket holds a piece of paper, fraying around the edges and so soft from folding it's starting to get holes at the creases._

When the Wraith was done feeding, Kolya let the camera linger on Sheppard's old, brittle form before the image turned to static. Ronon left the room, punching the glass wall so hard it shattered. Elizabeth sobbed into Teyla's arms, and Carson stared at the screen, mouth half open and face white as a sheet. Rodney paced and shouted and kicked the wall and had never felt more powerless in his life.

Either because there was something human left in Kolya or because he thought it would hurt more, he returned the body to Ladon, who sent it through the gate with a Genii honor guard they barely stopped Ronon from killing. Rodney helped Ronon carry Sheppard to the morgue and found he couldn't bear to leave. He apologized to John for shooting a mouse instead of Kolya. He apologized for not finding him sooner. He apologized for every time he made Sheppard yell, every time he almost didn't save them.

Eventually he figured if he was going to be there anyway, he may as well be useful. He emptied Sheppard's pockets -- supplies were still too precious to waste. The tac vest was easy. The pants pockets felt more private, and Rodney couldn't suppress a shudder at how the clothes hung off Sheppard's skeletal frame. In the back pocket he found a tattered, faded sheet of paper, barely able to unfold without disintegrating.

When he realized what it was, Rodney's forehead creased and he reached for the pen he'd found in Sheppard's tac vest. He wrote carefully, his scientist's scrawl a sharp contrast to Sheppard's pinched military lines. With "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard" as the last name on the list, Rodney carefully slipped the paper into his own pocket, taking over burdens not his own.

_John Sheppard's back pocket holds a piece of paper, fraying around the edges and so soft from folding it's starting to get holes at the creases. When he unfolds it, a list of names greets him, written in black pen with his small, cramped, military-neat handwriting. The name at the top is "Colonel Marshall Sumner." When he left Earth a similar list was abandoned with the rest of a life that had careened off track. It had contained names like "Mitch," "Dex," and "Small boy outside Kabul - October 23, 2002."_

After John returned, at once older and younger than he once was, and Beckett checked him out and Rodney told him, red-faced, about shooting a mouse and Ronon finally let him out of his sight, Elizabeth strongly suggested he pay Dr. Heightmeyer a visit. Kate asked him lots of questions, and he smiled and gave her non-committal answers and promised to come back if he ever needed to talk. They both knew it would never happen. He left her office and went straight to the armory, where he emptied round after round into paper targets.

Had he gone back in the following weeks or months, there were many things he could have not told her about. He could have not told her that after showers he never looked in the mirror until he had his shirt on, never took it off to shave. He could have not told her about waking in darkness clutching his chest until the dream-memory of wasted limbs faded into the life-pulse of Atlantis. He could have not told her that while running, miles of Ancient city passing beneath his feet, he thought Kolya unknowingly gave him a gift -- a chance to know what being old was like so he could truly enjoy being young. He could have not told her that if he was occasionally edgier, distracted under his usual sarcasm, it was only because part of him was always focused on when he would next see Kolya.

The Air Force had taught John the proper way to fold his sheets, the importance of early morning runs, and the awesomeness of flying at two hundred miles per hour. But the most important lesson it taught was that war wasn't personal. A soldier didn't hate, didn't know the name of the soldiers he shot at, who shot at him. He was only a cog in a giant machine fighting for ideas, for countries. That was what made killing in war different from murder. It wasn't personal.

Like everything else, Pegasus had turned this idea topsy-turvy. Kolya taught John what it meant to be personal, and John had always been a quick learner.

Finally putting the bullet into Kolya was anti-climactic after the months of anticipation. Back on Atlantis, Elizabeth pressed her lips together and nodded when he reported on the mission, not voicing the judgment he saw in her eyes.

He was sitting on his bed, looking at the list of names stretching across the sheet of paper with "Colonel Marshall Sumner" at the top and "Acastus Kolya" at the bottom when his door chimed.

Dr. Heightmeyer stood at the door. "I wanted to see how you were doing," she said. "You never came back to talk."

John didn't invite her in. "I've been busy. Planets to explore, cities to save. The usual."

She looked at the paper clenched in his fist. "Do you keep a list?"

"What?"

"A list. Of people whose deaths you feel responsible for," she said, leaning against the doorframe. "It's not uncommon for military officers to keep one." He just stared at her.

Not intimidated by his silence, Dr. Heightmeyer tried again. "Does revenge feel as good as you'd expected?"

"He can't hurt my people ever again," John told her.

"Is that why you shot him?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe as though she was perfectly content to stand in the hallway for this conversation. "Because he hurt your people? Not because of what he did to you?"

"He was holding my team at gunpoint," John explained. "I did what I had to do."

"And that's the only reason you killed him?" she arched an eyebrow at him. "The reason you didn't capture him?"

"He's killed or threatened too many of our people," John told her, his voice getting harsher. "It was too dangerous to let him live."

"Why did you come to Atlantis?" She was trying to get him off-track, trick him into giving something away. He shrugged.

"Some people came because they wanted to explore, or hoped to find ways to make Earth better, or to meet Ancients," she explained. "Others came to get away from what they had back home -- a second chance of sorts. Everyone has a reason. Why did you come?"

He'd told Rodney once, to the scientist's astonishment, that he'd decided to come to Atlantis based on a coin flip. He didn't tell Rodney that the coin chose 'Earth' and he went anyway. Didn't tell him that he'd left behind a life that had steered wildly off course and a list of lives it had taken with it, hoping to go somewhere such a list wouldn't be needed. He shrugged. "I didn't have any better offers."

She looked at him thoughtfully and nodded. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find me," she told him, leaving down the hallway without waiting for his response.

Back in his room he hunted down a new sheet of paper. Atlantis had done what he had wanted -- changed him -- given him a new life. He was no longer the person he used to be, but neither was he the person he had hoped to become. It was time to start a new list. He stared at the blank sheet of paper and considered writing "John Sheppard" at the top.


End file.
